


30 Day AU Challenge

by beargirl1393



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kidlock, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 11,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically what the title says. 30 fics written in various AU's and in various fandoms. Each chapter is a different AU and pairings vary, but all are short, drabbles basically.<br/>1. Sherlock/John<br/>2. Bilbo/Dwalin<br/>3. Bilbo/Bifur<br/>4. Bilbo/Dwalin<br/>5. Bilbo/Nori<br/>6. Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Greg<br/>7. Holmes/Watson<br/>8. Bilbo/Thorin<br/>9. Sherlock/John, Bilbo/Dwalin<br/>10. Sherlock/John, Holmes/Watson<br/>11. Sherlock/John<br/>12. Severus/Lucius<br/>13. Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Greg<br/>14. Sherlock/John<br/>15. Gen- Mycroft & Sherlock, John & Greg<br/>16. Holmes/Watson<br/>17. Gen- Thorin & Dwalin<br/>18. Bilbo/Elrond<br/>19. implied Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo & Dwalin<br/>20. Bilbo/Elrond, Glorfindel/?<br/>21. Bilbo/Dwalin<br/>22. Gen, Bilbo & Bofur, Bilbo & Thorin, Bilbo & Bombur & Dori<br/>23. Bilbo/Bifur, Bilbo & Elrond<br/>24. Bilbo/Dwalin<br/>25. Sherlock & John, Sherlock/John<br/>26. Sherlock/John<br/>27. Bilbo/Bifur<br/>28. Gen, kidlock<br/>29. Bilbo/Thorin<br/>30. ? You tell me who it is</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on my other fics, but I am slightly stuck and so I am working on the various AU's mentioned in the 30 day challenge. I have a few written already, and when I get rid of my block I will continue 'A Lion & A Snake' and continue 'The Tale of an Arranged Marriage Between a Dwarf and a Hobbit'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock & John, implied Sherlock/John

John typed in his user info to log into the site, relaxing back in his chair. Since he was invalided back, he found that civilian life was dreadfully boring. No one was hiring an ex-army doctor with PTSD and a psychosomatic limp, and so he was staying in a crappy little bedsit, living off his army pension.

He saw an advertisement for this online game a week ago, and he had decided to try it on a whim. Sadly, playing “The Hobbit” was as interesting as his days got anymore.

He had named his character Bilbo. The little creature was a hobbit, peaceful and fun-loving, and able to throw rocks with deadly accuracy. He started out in the Shire, where all the other hobbits lived, but quickly became bored by the lack of adventure. The Shire would be a nice place to rest, but he wanted something more interesting right now.

As luck would have it, he ran into a dragon after he left the Shire. The dragon, Smaug, had apparently taken over a mountain and claimed the treasure of the dwarves that had resided there. However, the dragon found it boring to sit on his pile of gold and do nothing all day, so he decided to go looking for crimes to solve. Bilbo decided to go along with him, if only so the fool dragon didn’t get himself killed.

In the week that they had been playing together, Smaug and Bilbo had many adventures. Everything from fighting orcs (which is rather dangerous for a hobbit) to visiting elves (which is rather dangerous for a dragon), Bilbo and Smaug had done it all. They had even rescued a party of dwarves from several trolls!

John found that ‘Smaug’ was amusing, if rather haughty and sometimes unbearably smug. There was something about the other player that made John want to get to know him.

So, when he followed Mike into one of the chemistry labs at Bart’s and a man a few years younger than him looked up from his microscope and said, “Hello Mr. Baggins”, John couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

As he got to know Sherlock better, he began to play the game less, but he never forgot about it entirely. That fantasy game led to one of the best relationships he had ever had, personal or professional, and Sherlock was better than any fanstasy.


	2. High School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Dwalin

Bilbo went to his usual seat in the library, sighing as he sat down. School had just started last week, and if he thought his senior year was going to be any different than the previous ones, he was sadly mistaken. The only differences from the previous years was the scramble to ensure you had everything ready for college and all the senior nonsense-senior pictures, rings, t-shirts, class song, ect.- that everyone seemed obsessed about.

Bilbo rummaged in his bag for a moment, withdrawing his history book and notebook, setting to work on the questions the teacher set. The more he got done now, the less he had to worry about later.

Bilbo worked quietly and efficiently for half an hour, nearly finishing all of the questions, before he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Looking up, he saw that it was Dwalin Fundinson, star of the football team, second only to his cousin Thorin. Bilbo personally liked Dwalin better, even if some would say Thorin was more attractive, simply because Dwalin had never seemed as rude as his cousin. He had even stopped Thorin from picking on Bilbo several times.

“Yes?” Bilbo asked, curious as to why Dwalin would be seeking him out. He knew the other boy had a study hall now, as did Bilbo, but he also knew that Dwalin usually spent that time hanging out with Thorin and the rest of their group, called ‘the Company’.

Dwalin looked at the smaller boy and felt himself freeze. With his honey curls and bright hazel eyes, Bilbo was undeniably attractive, but he was also intelligent and compassionate, and all of that had contrived to send him arse over teakettle in love with the slightly younger boy. Telling said boy was a problem, as words had never been Dwalin’s forte.

“Dwalin? Is something the matter?” Bilbo asked when the other boy didn’t respond, his brow creasing with worry. That seemed to snap Dwalin out of whatever trance the other boy had fallen into.

“Um…it’s like this…I…really like you Bilbo, and I…wanted to know if you would want to…go out, sometime,” Dwalin said, flushing and averting his eyes at the end of his stunted speech. God help him, he sounded like such a tongue-tied fool. Maybe he should have asked Balin for advice after all. His brother had managed to get the fussy Dori Rison to go out with him, so he likely would have had suggestions about how to win over Bilbo.

“Really?” Bilbo asked, his voice coming out as a squeak. He had been watching Dwalin for years, dreaming that he would want to go out with Bilbo, but he hadn’t ever expected those dreams to come true.

Dwalin looked up, and saw Bilbo’s lightly tanned face flushed while his eyes sparkled with happiness, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My God, you’re gorgeous.” Realizing what he said, he flushed and said, “I meant, yeah, I want to go out with you.”

“Saturday?” Bilbo asked, smiling up at him. “The movie theatre will have deals on for couples.”

Dwalin nodded, grinning at Bilbo’s beaming face. “Alright. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said nodding, before he gestured to the chair beside his. “If you have nothing else to do, we could study together?”

“Aye, I think that Spanish teacher wants to fail me this year,” Dwalin said, sitting down beside Bilbo and reluctantly withdrawing the hated textbook.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Bilbo said, leaning over and placing a light kiss on Dwalin’s cheek, lightly covered with stubble. “I’ll just have to tutor you.”

“That you will,” Dwalin agreed, flipping to the page that had the exercises he needed to complete. If Spanish would allow him to spend even more time with Bilbo, it may just become his favorite class.


	3. 1950's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Bifur. Italics is when Bifur is speaking in Russian.

Bilbo bit his lip as he looked over at the boy across from him. Bifur Broadbeam was a rather quiet boy, moreso since his accident. A hit and run left him with head trauma, resulting in the fact that, although he could understand it, he could no longer speak English and could only speak Russian, his native tongue.

In 1952, Bifur was looked at with suspicion by most everyone. Tension between Russia and the US was at an all-time high, and any native Russians were suspected communists. Bifur’s parents had been Russians, and although they moved here before Bifur was born, Bifur was the only one to speak English.

That is, until the accident.

Now, Bifur was unable to communicate with his teachers and fellow students. He had no problem completing the assignments set, but he wasn’t doing as well as he could, seeing as part of his grades counted on class participation, and he couldn’t participate.

The arrival of Bilbo Baggins had seemed like a miracle.

Bilbo’s mother had traveled a lot in her youth, and as such she had taught her son many things other children wouldn’t know. Including several languages, Russian among them.

“I spoke to Principal Thranduil,” Bilbo said, his voice soft. They were in the library, going over Bilbo’s plan again. “He said that it would be fine, and he gave me a slip that you will have to show your teachers, but then they should all accept it.” He slid the paper across to the other boy, thankful that they had all the same classes.

 _“They won’t accept you,”_ Bifur warned, his deep voice slightly rusty with disuse. Even at home, he didn’t speak much anymore. _“You’ll be ostracized.”_

Bilbo shrugged. “Your point? I haven’t cared what anyone thought of me for several years, much to my father’s mortification. The idiots here would look for any excuse to turn on me, especially because I’m new here. I may as well give them an excuse rather than let them fabricate one.”

Bifur opened his mouth to argue, to tell Bilbo about the extent of the shunning he would likely endure. No one outside the Company would speak to him. He would likely be considered a commie spy, just like Bifur and the others.

Before he could voice any of those thoughts, Bilbo leaned forward and pressed their lips together briefly.

“It will be worth it,” Bilbo said, a small smile on his face even as his cheeks flushed.

 _“Yes,”_ Bifur said, leaning in to capture Bilbo’s lips again. It definitely would be worth it.


	4. Superhero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a modern AU, where hobbits and dwarves still exist, but Erebor is a city, not a mountain. Also, hobbits have superpowers that no one knows about.

“So,” Dwalin said conversationally, staring at the man who had landed in front of him. A man who had just fallen off of the roof of a seven story building and proceeded to stand up as though he had only tripped stepping off the curb. “Who’re you?”

The man in front of him (wearing tan trousers, white shirt, green waistcoat with acorn buttons, red jacket, and a mask that covered his face, only showing his curly blonde hair, slightly pointed ears, and red lips that were begging him to kiss them) looked at him for a moment before smiling slightly.

“Can you guess?” the figure asked, a teasing tone in his voice. Apparently, being tossed off a seven story building hadn’t soured his temper. Maybe it improved it.

“You’re a hobbit,” Dwalin said, eyeing the pointed ears (not pointed enough for an elf, but too pointed for a man or dwarf) and the large, bare, hairy feet.

“And you’re a dwarf,” the hobbit said, still smiling. “That’s what I am, not who I am.”

“I don’ think yer only a hobbit,” Dwalin said, “As I don’ know many hobbits that can fall off a building that size and not get hurt. Hell, most dwarves couldn’ do it.”

“There is always more to things than meets the eye,” the hobbit said, smiling.

“Well, yer not an ordinary hobbit,” Dwalin protested. “No ordinary hobbit would be seen this far from the Shire. And I don’ think they wear masks.”

“Only sometimes,” the hobbit said, and Dwalin thought he might have winked. “Although you are right. We normally keep to the Shire, minding our business and letting the world pass us by. Dreadfully boring.”

“So ya left the Shire ta run around Erebor in a mask?” Dwalin asked skeptically.

“Who has been running around Erebor for the past two years since it has been reclaimed, helping to defend it from all those who wish it’s inhabitants ill?” the hobbit asked, looking cross for the first time.

“The Burglar,” Dwalin breathed. Despite the rogue name, The Burglar had been an asset to every decent citizen in Erebor since he appeared, accomplishing feats that should not have been possible for any ordinary dwarf.

“Exactly,” the hobbit said, although there was a trace of sadness in his voice.

“Have you been back to the Shire recently?” Dwalin asked, ignoring the hobbit’s tone. _His_ burglar, his resilient little hobbit, had been banished, and Dwalin hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

“Not for going on three years,” the hobbit said, and something was different about it’s voice. Lighter, more musical, and it sounded like…

“Bilbo?” He reached out and tugged the mask off, past the pointed ears and honey curls. There, standing in front of him, was his Bilbo Baggins.

“Hello Dwalin,” Bilbo murmured. “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

“I’d say,” Dwalin grumbled before crushing his hobbit to him. “I want ta know how ya did that, and why ya never used your powers on the Quest. That can wait though.” Before Bilbo could so much as twitch, he was pulled into a desperate kiss by his dwarf, as though Dwalin was trying to prove to himself that Bilbo was really there.

And he was. And he proved that throughout the course of the night. Superpowers or not, Dwalin had never been happier to see his hobbit in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't leave Erebor because Dwalin was still there, so Bilbo used his hobbit powers to fight crime in Erebor, helping Dwalin without his knowledge.


	5. Western

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Nori, based off a scene in 'How The West Was Won'.

Nori heard him singing as he sat at the card table.

He was on a riverboat headed east, gambling a bit to fleece the fools he encountered to have money to send home to his younger brothers. Nori Rison may have been many things (although none lived long after saying any of them to his face), but he was fiercely protective of his brothers.

He had also been protective of another, a younger man with honeyed curls, sparkling eyes brighter than any jewel he had come across, and a caring soul. He also had a keen wit and could give as good as he got, intriguing Nori from the get-go.

He had first seen the man as an easy mark, a singer who had recently inherited a gold mine and was headed west to claim it, but over the course of their trip he had come to care for the man, more than was wise for a thief like him.

He had frequently indulged his pleasures, discreetly, with both men and women, but he had never cared for anyone other than his brothers and his parents, who were long dead.

When the claim turned out to be a bust, he used that as his excuse to leave the younger man, not wanting to burden himself with those bothersome feelings. He’d take another Indian attack over that.

Or so he thought.

Hearing that soft, sweet voice singing brought back many memories time hadn’t managed to banish, and when he turned and saw him standing there on that stage, Nori knew what he was going to do.

He finished his hand just before his love finished his song, and Nori quickly scooped up his winnings before hightailing it to the dressing rooms. One had his love’s name on it, so Nori picked the lock and entered, sitting in the only chair available (at the mirror where the other applied his makeup).

When Bilbo entered the dressing room, Nori found himself on the floor holding his jaw, staring up at his very pissed off former love. Smirking, he thanked anything that Bilbo didn’t have his gun, as Nori didn’t put it past him to shoot him just to prove a point.

Groveling would be called for, as well as serious talks on how to discreetly hide any relationship they would have, but Nori put that out of his mind. For now, he would focus on calming Bilbo down enough that the other man didn’t punch him again.

After all, Nori didn’t know if Bilbo was currently carrying a gun, but he likely had one in his rooms.


	6. Mafia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-slash, John/Sherlock & Mycroft/Greg

“Try to keep your temper John,” Greg cautioned his fellow officer as they approached the house of Mycroft Holmes, respectable businessman who was rumored to have a shady side that was darker than Al Capone’s shadow. “We’ve got nothing on Holmes. We’re meeting with him off the books for now because he called us but if we see anything we can turn it in.”

John just nodded, his lips in a firm line. He had had the ‘pleasure’ of Mycroft Holmes’ company once before, and it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.

“Ah gentlemen, right on time,” Mycroft Holmes said, standing and smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of his expensive suit. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Sherlock,” he said, gesturing to the man who had been sitting and staring at the window.

John was instantly captivated as his eyes locked with those of the younger Holmes. Those blue eyes, so similar and so different from his brother, showing boredom and a restlessness that John could relate to. He noticed the other man looking him over and flushed.

Greg, on the other hand, was distracted by Mycroft. He had heard of the man, of course, everyone on the force had, and he had seen photos of him, but none of that did him justice. There was a sense of power seeming to radiate from him that drew Greg in.

The Holmes brothers looked at each other before looking back to their respective officers. Yes, this would be mutually beneficial indeed.

 Sherlock had originally protested having a bodyguard, but looking at John he decided the perks would likely be worth it. John was so ordinary, yet there was something about him that made him different, and Sherlock intended to find out what that was.

Mycroft’s thoughts ran in a similar vein. He needed to replace one of his guards and Gregory Lestrade seemed to be the perfect choice for that. And if the man’s duties led to certain personal privileges, well, no one could say working with the Holmes family wasn’t rewarding.


	7. Steampunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes & Watson (or Holmes/Watson if you prefer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been very into steampunk, but I gave it my best shot. Sorry it's short (shorter than usual anyway)

“Holmes, if you start shooting the wall again Mrs. Hudson won’t be pleased,” Watson warned, watching as his friend idly toyed with his rad gun. “She threatened to evict us if you do it again.”

“You worry too much Watson,” Holmes sighed, but he thankfully put the gun away. “There are no interesting crimes being committed, all of my experiments need time before I will get any result, and there is nothing of interest in this world anymore.” The lanky detective flopped back in his chair and Watson had to fight a grin before he could answer.

“Thank you Holmes,” he said dryly. “I am glad to know that I bore you.”

“Oh don’t be foolish Watson,” Holmes said, not opening his eyes to look at him.

Watson cast about for something to occupy his friend and spied his cane. Holmes had been bothering him for weeks, wanting to tinker with it. Some of the springs and cogs were in need of repair anyway…

“Holmes, could you take a look at my cane? It wasn’t working on the way home,” Watson said, and his words had the desired effect. Holmes jumped up and fetched the cane, setting it on his work table and beginning to tinker with it. Silence reigned in the flat, and there was no worry that Holmes would shoot the walls.

Now all that was left was to hope that he didn’t cause an explosion again. Mrs. Hudson was getting tired of hiring people to replace the roof.


	8. Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is based on 'A Tale With A Riddle' by the Brothers Grimm. It's one of the shortest out of their collected tales.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, made a mistake.

He angered the king of the woodland realm, Thranduil, and as punishment the elf turned Thorin’s consort, a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, into a flower and put him in a garden in a small clearing in the center of Mirkwood, Thranduil’s realm.

Thorin begged for mercy, as Bilbo was his love and his days were empty without him, but Thranduil remained unmoved.

Finally, Thranduil’s cousin, Lord Elrond of Imladris, was able to convince Thranduil to release the hobbit at night, so he and his husband would be able to be together for a few hours. Thranduil conceded, and as punishment for Elrond’s interference he turned Elrond’s twin sons into flowers as well, placing them in the same row as Bilbo.

Now, the two elves and the hobbit all looked the same as flowers, without any distinguishing marks. All three were in a row, with Elladan, the elder twin, on the left, Bilbo in the middle, and Elrohir, the younger twin, on the right, so it would have been difficult for anyone to distinguish one from the other.

A year passed in this manner, with Bilbo being allowed to visit Thorin every evening from sunset to sunrise and Elrond lamenting the loss of his sons and plotting revenge.

He went to Thranduil and made a bargain. Thorin would be allowed to go into the garden and search for his beloved. If he chose correctly, Bilbo, Elladan, and Elrohir would resume their natural forms. If Thorin failed to pick the right flower, Elrond himself would join his sons and the hobbit.

Thranduil agreed, thinking that the dwarf would never be able to tell which flower was his consort. Dwarves, after all, are known for their talents with metal and stone, not with growing things.

He had forgotten that the hobbit would have likely spoken to his love about whatever he was passionate about, including his love of all things green and growing.

It was thus that Thorin knew which flower was Bilbo, as it was the only one without dew. Bilbo had been curled up with Thorin as a hobbit, not standing as a flower in the bed when the others were covered with dew.

Thranduil cursed, of course, but he had to keep his promise and so Bilbo, Elladan, and Elrohir were all free of his curse. Thorin learned to control his temper better, and Thranduil learned to never underestimate his cousin, dwarves, or hobbits.


	9. Detectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John, mentioned Bilbo/Dwalin (any Hobbit, Dwarf, or Dragon characters are human in this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have any other ideas on how to do this one, so it ended up being something with Sherlock and John because Sherlock is a detective. Not exactly an AU, but I had fun writing it.

“Your cousin was interesting John,” Sherlock said as they took a taxi back from Bilbo’s place. “He resembles you more closely than your sister does.”

John snorted. “Yeah, bit of a family joke that. They like to say that we’re twins separated at birth instead of distant cousins.”

Sherlock just smirked, no doubt remembering when he aired a few secrets that had Lobelia turning red with rage.

“If she wasn’t already married, I’d suggest setting her up with that cousin of yours, the one that looks like you and is more unbearably greedy than a dragon guarding it’s hoard.”

“That is an apt description for his behavior,” Sherlock said wryly, still staring out the window. “I believe invitations will be sent out next week.”

“Invitations?” John asked blankly. _He doesn’t really think that Lobelia and what’s-his-face will marry, does he?_

“For Bilbo’s wedding John, do keep up John,” Sherlock snapped, irritated that his partner wasn’t following the logical train of thought. “But why would he and the bodyguard marry when there is something between the politician and him as well?”

“Bilbo and Dwalin are getting married?” John asked, wide-eyed. “They just started dating a month ago! Why on Earth would they be rushing to get married now?”

“That is the mystery John, one which I expect I will find the answer to rather soon,” Sherlock said confidently. “I am, after all, the world’s only consulting detective.”

John just shook his head. If there was any reason Bilbo and Dwalin shouldn’t get married, Sherlock would find it. That thought comforted him as they pulled up outside 221 Baker Street and Sherlock hopped out, leaving John to pay the cabbie.


	10. Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John, Holmes/Watson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little trouble with this one, so forgive me if it's frazzled.

**Present day**

It was a normal morning in 221b Baker Street. John woke up and found his lover sitting beside him tapping away on his laptop. The laptop was pushed aside to make way in Sherlock’s lap for a wide awake blonde ex-Army doctor.

**Vicorian Era**

It was a normal morning in 221b Baker Street.

The pair of lovers residing in 221b had been able to spend a few hours together before the need for secrecy forced them apart. The thought of rotting in gaol was unpleasant, but neither were willing to give up their love.

So, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes woke in their individual beds, getting ready for a day of patients and crimes and (hopefully) secret touches when they were alone.

**Both**

It was an accident. Sherlock Holmes noticed a second before the chemicals combined that he had grabbed the wrong chemical. The two combined would react violently and cause untold damage. Both lunged for their lovers, trying to keep them out of the blast radius. One succeeded.

The other and his lover disappeared from their current time, reappearing elsewhere.

**Present day**

Sherlock and John were shocked when their Victorian era counterparts appeared in their living room, but Holmes and Watson were more shocked to note the wedding bands on the other men’s fingers. Explanations would be discussed, the two geniuses coming up with theories in minutes while their partners shared longsuffering looks.

It had started and ended as an ordinary day in 221b. After all, time travelers from the Victorian era weren’t the weirdest visitors they had had.

 _Just another day with Sherlock Holmes,_ both John Watsons thought, looking at their partners with a mixture of exasperated fondness that didn’t differ with time.

Sherlock Holmes would always be Sherlock Holmes, and he would never be complete without John Watson. His Boswell. His blogger. His partner.

Time didn’t change much after all.


	11. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for one of my relatives, who said that if Sherlock went to Hogwarts and wasn't in the same House as John he'd pitch a fit. In my mind, this takes place after the last book.

“I still think the entire process is idiotic,” Sherlock muttered, waving his wand at a stack of books that needed reshelved, sending them floating to their appropriate spots.

“Why?” John asked, curious. He and Sherlock had just started working at Hogwarts two days ago and John was still having trouble finding his way around. He hadn’t had time to consider the Sorting, especially since none of the students would be there for another month.

“Because,” Sherlock snapped, dark blue robes snapping around his ankles as he turned and stalked toward with the new Defense professor was sitting, “They are separating children based on personality traits, when their personalities are liable to change as they age or they may be pressured into choosing a House based on their family or friend’s decisions.”

“You do have a point,” he conceded as the librarian flopped down beside him. “I’m glad your parents decided to let me keep training with you when they had tutors for you and Mycroft. Then again, they likely knew how much of a strop you’d throw if you only saw me a few months a year.”

“Quite,” Sherlock said, smirking as John kissed him. “But I still don’t like the Sorting.”

“You’re just mad that we wouldn’t have been in the same House,” John said, turning back to his book. “You would have made Ravenclaw before the Hat even touched your head.”

“You are intelligent too John, and quite willing to learn,” he said, indicating the Defense book his friend was reading.

“Alright, then what would you have done if you were Sorted into Slytherin?” John asked.

“Laughed at your shocked expression when the Hat said you would do well there,” Sherlock said, smirking. “You can be quite cunning when you want to be love.”

“And you can be stupidly loyal and hardworking when you want to be,” John said, “So you would have made a good Hufflepuff.”

“Please John,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “Next you will be trying to convince me that I would make a passable Gryffindor.”

John just laughed, not saying a word. _Sherlock could have been a Gryffindor, but he also could have been in any of the Houses,_ John reflected. _Maybe the Houses are outdated after all. Who would be able to tell Sherlock Holmes what to do anyway? He’d pick a different House just to spite everyone else, and he’s stubborn enough to argue with that blasted Hat and win._

 John went back to his book, and Sherlock to his filing, both happy to spend a little time together before they began their new jobs at Hogwarts.

The poor school would likely never be the same.


	12. Runaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus/Lucius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another request, this one for a friend who ships Snucius. I've never written this pairing before, so they'll likely be OOC and this will definitely not be canon compliant.

“Lucius, you’re insane,” Severus stated, looking from his lover to the black ring box in his hand and back at Lucius.

One elegant blonde eyebrow rose. “You don’t want to marry me?” the Malfoy Lord asked, hurt that his proposal was met with this reaction.

“I do, but I am slightly more practical than you seem to be,” Severus said, and his voice took on a desperate tone as he said, “Lucius, you are the pureblood heir of the Malfoys. Do you really think your father will let you marry a dirt poor half-blood studying to be a Potions Master, a man at that?”

“I don’t care,” Lucius said, stepping closer and running a hand through Severus’s dark hair. “I had you hide our relationship your last two years at Hogwarts, and the year and a half since then, but I’m sick of it! I want everyone to know that you are mine.”

“What prompted this?” Severus asked, taking the lightly shaking blonde into his arms. He knew Lucius loved him, but he also knew the man was not one to say to Hell with tradition unless something major occurred.

“He told me I was expected to propose to Narcissa Black and be ready to take my place by the Dark Lord’s side by the end of the year,” Lucius said, shaking still with impotent fury. “I have no say in my own life!”

“We would have to run Lucius,” Severus cautioned him, forcing Lucius’ grey eyes to meet his dark ones. “We would not be able to stay here. You would have to leave your father’s manor, run away. You could stay with me at Spinner’s End. It’s not much, it’s run down and filthy to be honest, but you would be free from your father’s influence.”

“I’d need to get a job,” Lucius said, numbly. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let Severus do everything for him. “In the Muggle world, he’d never look there.” Lucius pulled his shocked lover closer, placing a kiss in his raven hair. “I’d do anything to be with you Severus, even running away and consorting with muggles.”

Severus couldn’t help but laugh at his lover, his _fiance’s_ words. Lucius Malfoy would do anything for him, even tolerate muggles.


	13. WWII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Greg. slight mentions of PTSD & injuries, implied minor character death

“I’ll be back in no time,” John said, hugging Sherlock’s thin form closer. “A couple of months, tops.”

Sherlock said nothing, burying his face deeper into John’s neck. He didn’t point out that people always said war would not last long nor would many be hurt or killed, yet the tolls would climb and the days would drag on and people would be so bloody stubborn that it took ages to reach peace. Ages and numerous lives.

He said none of this, however, as he had already voiced these objections after John had talked about joining, and he repeated his pleas before John left to sign up. Now, on their last night together in the foreseeable future, he doesn’t want to think about the war. Tomorrow, he would be joining his brother in the intelligence offices, cracking codes and helping strategize to limit the casualties they would doubtless face. Tomorrow, John would catch the train and leave for training. Soon, he would be deployed.

Sherlock forced himself not to think about any of that, however, and instead spent the night categorizing everything about John Watson, freezing him in his mind palace permanently.

After he saw John to the station, he made it back to the flat before he broke down. His brother, one of the two who knew about their relationship, said nothing when he arrived to pick Sherlock up. For once, their rivalries were forgotten. Both were losing someone they loved, and neither knew if they would get them back. So, the brothers simply shared a look infused with all they would not say and left.

The war did take longer than John thought it would.

He and Sherlock had managed to spend a handful of days together, when he had leave time and the intelligence office could spare Sherlock. Mycroft would cover for Sherlock, as Sherlock would do when Gregory was on leave. Neither brother would begrudge the other time with their partner.

The newer codes were inventive, but child’s play for Holmesian minds. Both Sherlock and Mycroft had created puzzles and riddles to keep from going mad as children, and it was with relative ease that they cracked the codes that had others scratching their heads and ripping out their hair.

John was invalided home a week before World War Two ended. He came to in a hospital in London, having been transferred whenever his condition was stable enough, to find Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and Gregory Lestrade by his bedside.

John’s shoulder would pain him on rainy days, and he had nightmares of the things he’d seen, but Sherlock was there, heating up compresses or simply holding him until he came back to himself.

Greg was also plagued by nightmares and had rather violent flashbacks at first, but Mycroft did his best, soothing and consoling him.

The war had taken many things from many people, but Sherlock Holmes was thankful that he still had John. Mycroft would despair over things that couldn’t be changed, but he was grateful that the one constant in his life hadn’t been removed and Gregory had returned to him.


	14. Pirates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fluffed. I couldn't help it. Kidlock ahoy.

_“What do you want to do now, Captain Sherlock?” John asked, looking over the pile of loot they had obtained. Mycroft’s umbrella, Harry’s music player, Mrs. Holmes’ magazine, Mr. Holmes’ glass, his dad’s newspaper, and his mom’s cookbook._

_“Well,” Sherlock said, looking over at his First Mate and also his best friend, “Pirates usually bury their treasure, so that no one else can take it, and then they draw a map that shows where it is so they can find it later.”_

_“So we’re going to bury this stuff?” John asked, gesturing at the pile in front of him. “Won’t we get in trouble?”_

_Sherlock grinned at John. “Only if we get caught.”_

_John laughed and helped his best friend load their loot into a bag and find colored pencils and paper. They had treasure to bury._

John started out of his memory when a long fingered, pale hand clasped his shoulder.

“John?” Sherlock asked, confused.

John smirked and handed his lover the picture that had sparked the memory. In it, they were five years old and had just returned to the Manor after burying their treasure. One of the servants had snapped a picture of them, covered in dirt, dressed in their pirate costumes, and looking outrageously happy.

“I remember this,” Sherlock said, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Mother never did find that magazine.”

“Harry was furious that I took her radio,” John said, snorting. “Did Mycroft ever find out it was us who took his umbrella?”

“It wasn’t us John,” Sherlock said, with a look of wide eyed innocence that didn’t fool John for an instant. “It was pirates!”

“Yes Sherlock, pirates came and took your brother’s umbrella and my sister’s radio because they were being prats to us,” John said dryly.

“Of course,” Sherlock said, sniffing haughtily. “Besides, I know for a fact that the Captain of the pirates hated overbearing older siblings who tried to tell their younger brothers what to do.”

“And I know for a fact that you still have that pirate hat,” John said, smirking at Sherlock’s blush.

The tables were turned, however, when Sherlock said, “You still have the treasure map.”


	15. Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen- Mycroft & Sherlock, John & Greg

“I’ve got a new assignment for you two,” the head of the asylum grunted, dropping two files on the table in front of John and Greg. “Pair of brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade, you take the elder one, Watson, you take the other.”

Both men nodded, pulling the files closer. Mycroft Holmes was the elder brother by seven years and had been diagnosed as mentally ill when he was four years old. He saw things that no sane person would be able to see. He was sent to an asylum a year later, and was joined by his brother Sherlock. The younger sibling was more wild, less self-contained, and he too saw things he shouldn’t. He had been diagnosed when he was four as well, and was sent directly to the same facility his brother was being held in. Since then, the two brothers had received a myriad of treatments that bordered on inhumane, shock treatments evidently being the favorite choice. Both brothers had learned to act ordinary, but the façade didn’t hold, likely because neither wanted it to. They didn’t believe they had a problem.

John looked at the pictures enclosed in Sherlock’s file. They showed a slim, dark haired boy glaring sullenly forward, arms crossed. Another picture had Sherlock and the boy who must have been his brother, taller and slightly heavier, with ginger hair and a blank face. He had one hand on his brother’s shoulder, whether to restrain him or comfort him, John couldn’t decide. Another picture showed the two, older now, sitting across from each other.

 _He’s just a kid,_ John thought despairingly. Sherlock’s file had been clear on that point. His date of birth had been recorded, and he was only eighteen. John was only a year younger than his elder brother. The thought of both of them locked up since they were children made him want to be sick.

“This is…” Greg said, trailing off, unable to think of a word to define this. _Who would turn over their kids like this?_

“We have to help them Greg,” John said, staring at the glaring teenager in the picture in front of him. “No one else will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft was diagnosed as mentally ill at age 4, but his parents tried to cure him on their own for a year before sending him away. They had Sherlock several years later, and when he was diagnosed they immediately sent him away. Sherlock & Mycroft usually shared a room, and they are the only family each other has.


	16. Turn of the Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes/Watson

“It will be interesting Holmes,” Watson pleaded, looking at his friend and lover pleadingly. “It will be the first automobile race in the world! Surely that would be something of interest.”

Holmes turned from his packing and looked at his companion. He had persuaded Watson to accompany him to America for a case, and they happened to be in Chicago on the eve of a race. Watson, of course, wanted to put off their departure for a day to attend, and Holmes couldn’t find a reason to argue. It would make Watson happy, and he doubted that there were interesting crimes that needed his attention right now. If there were, Lestrade would have likely sent a telegram.

“Very well,” Holmes sighed, causing Watson’s face to light up with happiness. “We shall attend this pointless motor car rally and see what all the fuss is about.” He paused a moment, wondering if he should add a warning against gambling, but he decided against it. Watson had a good deal of common sense, after all, even if his deductive abilities were sadly lacking.

“Thank you Holmes,” Watson said, beaming as he replaced his case beside his bed, “And I look forward to repaying you for this after dinner.”

“I am eager to collect your debt,” Holmes said, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world's first automobile race was held in Chicago in 1896, two years after Holmes' return. Holmes was asked for help on a case in America and accepted because it was interesting.


	17. Plot Of You Favorite Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen, Thorin & Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite book is actually a tie between Black Beauty and the Sherlock Holmes stories, but Robin Hood is in the top ten. This is the chapter I would have posted on Friday, if I hadn't had computer problems. I'm adding today's as well.

One day, Thorin woke and decided it was time to look for adventure. He called his band to him and told them, “For a fortnight we have had no adventure and it has become boring. I am going to go looking for an adventure. If you hear me call, or blow three blasts upon my hunting horn, then hurry to where I am.” The others agreed, so he set out to find an adventure.

He passed a milkmaid, a messenger, and a farmer, all headed towards the town, but no adventure. He followed his path into the forest. The path crossed a river, which was spanned by a log bridge, wide enough for one man to cross at a time. As Thorin approached the bridge, a stranger also neared it from the opposite side. Thorin sped up, intending to cross first, only to notice that the stranger had obviously had the same idea. They reached the bridge at the same time.

“Stand back and let the better man cross first,” Thorin called.

“Stand back yerself,” the stranger growled, “Because I wager I’m the better man.”

“We’ll see about that,” Thorin said, snorting. “Now stay where you are, or by Mahal I’ll have an arrow between your ribs before you can blink.”

“And I’ll beat ya black n’ blue if ye think of touchin’ that bowstring,” the stranger said, twirling his staff.

“You are a fool,” Thorin said, chuckling. “I could send this arrow clean through your boasting heart before you could finish saying your prayers to the Maker.”

“And ye are a coward,” the stranger returned. “For ye have yer bow, while I have only my blackthorn staff to defend myself.”

“I have never been called a coward,” Thorin snarled. “I will lay down my bow and arrows and cut a cudgel with which I will test your mettle. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the stranger said, leaning on his staff while Thorin went to cut himself a cudgel.

Thorin watched the stranger while he cut and trimmed his staff, taking in that the other. Thorin, tall though he was, stood at least a head shorter than the other, and while Thorin’s shoulders were broad, the stranger’s were broader.

 _Nevertheless,_ Thorin thought, finishing up, _I’ll tan his hide and show him what it means to call Thorin Oakenshield a coward._ Out loud, he said, “Now, I have my staff, meet me in the middle of the bridge and we will settle this. We will fight until one of us manages to knock the other into the stream.”

“Alright,” the stranger agreed, stepping forward and twirling his staff.

The two fought greatly, giving and receiving blows that would have felled lesser men and parrying others. Each struck, parried, and struck again. They fought for an hour, neither able to land a winning blow and unwilling to yield. Once or twice they stopped to rest, and both thought that they had never seen a better opponent.

Finally, Thorin gave the stranger a blow to the ribs that came within an inch of tumbling the other man off the bridge. The stranger, however, righted himself quickly and gave Thorin a blow to the head, hard enough to make his head spin. Thorin was angry, and he attacked again and again, but the stranger blocked every blow. He gave Thorin another hard whack, and Thorin lost his balance and fell head over heels into the river.

“And where are you now lad?” the stranger laughed, leaning on his staff once more.

“Oh, in the river and flowing out with the tide,” Thorin said wryly, laughing at his predicament. He got to his feet and waded out of the stream, fish swimming away from the disturbance.

“I must admit you are a brave man, and a sturdy one too,” said Thorin, shaking the stranger’s hand. He then raised his hunting horn to his lips and blew three times, calling his band to him. “There isn’t a man in Arda who would be able to do that to me.”

“And ye take a beating like a strong man,” the stranger returned.

Seconds later, Thorin’s band of followers burst into the clearing, all dressed in Lincoln green.

“Thorin, what happened to you?” Bofur asked, eying their sopping wet leader. “You’re soaked.”

“That fellow over there knocked me into the stream, and gave me a beating besides,” Thorin said dryly.

“Then we’ll do the same to him,” cried little Bilbo Baggins, and the men charged the stranger, only stopping when Thorin called for them to halt.

“He’s a good man,” Thorin said, walking to the head of the Company and looking at the stranger. “Would you consider joining my Company? You shall have clothes of Lincoln green and a fair wage, part of everything we earn. We eat sweet venison and drink the stoutest ale, and you would be my right hand man. What do you say?”

The stranger shrugged. “If you are no better with your bow and arrows than you are with a staff, I’ll pass. However, if any of you beat me, I will join your company.”

“Very well,” Thorin said, rolling his eyes at the other man’s cheek. “Bifur, cut a target, four fingers across and set it twenty yards away. Now stranger, choose a bow and hit the mark.”

The stranger chose the sturdiest bow of the lot (beside Thorin’s), taking the arrow offered by Gloin and moving to the mark, saying, “If I don’t hit the mark, I give you permission to beat me black and blue with the bowstring.” So saying, he let the arrow fly, and it hit the target in the very center. “Beat that if ye can.”

The Company clapped, because it was a good shot, and then Thorin stepped up to the mark. “That is a good shot,” Thorin admitted, drawing an arrow from his quiver. “I doubt I can beat it, but perhaps I can match it.” He let the arrow fly, splitting Dwalin’s arrow to splinters. All of his Company jumped up and cheered that their leader had shot so well.

“By Mahal’s halls,” the stranger said, wide-eyed, “I have never seen a better shot in my life, and I have seen Bard of Dale shoot. He was a fair shot, but ye have him beat. I am yer man from here on out.”

“I’ve gained a good man today then,” Thorin said, smiling. “Now, what is your name.”

“Dwalin,” the stranger replied, “Son of Fundin, at yer service.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include the part where Little John goes from being John Little to being renamed Little John, but that didn't want to work with Dwalin.


	18. Elizabethan Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Elrond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one and the Futuristic ones are the hardest ones so far for me, so I'm sorry if this isn't the best. Also, I really don't have a reason for the pairing.

Bilbo sighed as Elrond tightened his corset. “I hate playing the woman.”

“You are the only one in the Company who can,” Elrond said sympathetically. “Fili and Kili are no longer an option, nor is Ori, and all of the others have beards. You know they would rather cut off an arm than shave their beard, performance or no.”

“Why did you have to write a woman into it,” Bilbo asked sourly. He didn’t blame Elrond, not really. He knew when he signed up that he would be forced into the feminine roles at times. Fili, Kili, and Ori were all options, but Ori had started growing a beard (besides his horrible stage fright, leaving him to be an assistant rather than an actor) and Fili and Kili had gone through puberty, inheriting the same deep voice their uncle Thorin (their main lead) had.

“Because I will use any excuse to see you in this get-up,” Elrond said, his voice low and his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear.

Thanking the privacy of his dressing room, Bilbo turned and kissed him, wondering if anyone would notice if he borrowed the dress.


	19. Futuristic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentioned Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo & Dwalin friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on Treasure Planet as that is the only remotely futuristic I've ever watched

Bilbo wiped his hands on his apron and sighed. Kili and Fili were supposed to be back to help out an hour ago. He picked up the tray that held Dwalin’s usual and took it to the man.

“Sorry Dwalin, it’s rather busy,” he said, making his way toward the newest customers to take their orders.

“Where’re the boys?” Dwalin asked as Bilbo passed him again. Bilbo just sighed.

“Who knows?” he asked, scowling slightly. “While Thorin sails off to who knows where, he leaves me in charge of Fili & Kili, knowing full well those two won’t listen to me. I’m not their family, I’m just dating their uncle.”

“They’ll come around,” Dwalin said, slapping Bilbo on his back, sending the man stumbling a few steps forward.

He felt for Bilbo, who was a decent bloke but seemed to have bad luck. When he was a boy, fifteen years old, his parents had died, leaving him to try to run Bag End Inn on his own. He met Thorin two years later when his spaceship crashed in front of the restaurant, and the two had been dating since. Thorin was practically allergic to commitment, resulting in the two dating for thirteen years. He was supposed to spend the summer with Bilbo, bringing his recently orphaned nephews with him, but instead he left the boys with Bilbo and joined another expedition. The boys had been more of a hindrance than a help all summer, unwilling to obey ‘Mr. Boggins’, a man they only knew through their uncle and running around at all hours to ride their solar surfers and cause mayhem.

Bilbo was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. Delivering plates of food and drinks to various tables on his way, Bilbo finally opened the door, revealing Fili & Kili wedged between two robo-cops.

“Mr. Baggins,” the first said, “I believe you know these two?”

Bilbo sighed. Today was definitely going to be a long day.


	20. Prostitutes/Strip Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Elrond, Glorfindel/?  
> Also, despite the title there isn't any smut until the end, where it is implied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had an idea involving John & Sherlock, but Bilbo & Elrond took over instead. Bilbo is a blunt little thing sometimes.

Elrond honestly didn’t know how he got roped into these things.

He supposed it started on the eve of his marriage to Celebrian when Glorfindel congratulated him. He thanked the elf, but also told him the truth about the marriage. It was a political match, nothing more. Celebrian was lovely, but he didn’t love her, nor she him.

They got along, and although his preferences usually lay with ellon, they managed to have three beautiful elflings.

He was truly saddened when she sailed for, although he didn’t love her, they were good friends and she was the mother of his children.

Now, a century later, Glorfindel had dragged him to a brothel in Bree.

There were men, elves, and dwarves, male and female, but Elrond wasn’t given time to express his opinion. His Seneschal had spoken to the owner and then proceeded to drag Elrond up the steps and down the hall, opening the last door on the left and shoving Elrond through it, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Have fun,” he called through the door as Elrond whirled around.

“Glorfindel,” he growled, not noticing that he wasn’t alone until the other occupant of the room cleared his throat, catching Elrond’s attention.

“I assume you didn’t choose to come here,” the hobbit said, standing from the chair he’d been sitting in and walking forward. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“Elrond,” Elrond replied with a small bow. He was a small thing, about three and a half feet tall, with golden brown curls on his head and his feet (which were impeccably groomed). He had bright green eyes, the same color as the rolling fields of the Shire, and he was wearing a patchwork cotton bathrobe.

“Mr. Elrond,” Bilbo said, bowing in return. “My mother used to tell me of Lord Elrond of Imladris. She had great fun playing with his sons, Elladan and Elrohir if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” Elrond replied, startled. “Who was your mother?” He knew of only one hobbit who had visited Rivendell in the past several decades, but her last name was Took.

“Belladonna Baggins,” Bilbo replied with a small smile. “Formerly Belladonna Took.”

“You are Belladonna Took’s son?” Elrond questioned, slightly shocked. Sometimes he forgot how short the lives of hobbits were. Barely longer than men, a century at most.

“I am,” Bilbo said, gesturing for Elrond to sit down. He perched gingerly on the bed, watching as Bilbo retook his place in the chair. “Nothing need happen if you don’t want to.”

“Pardon?” Elrond asked, confused. This wasn’t what he had been expecting at all.

“We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to,” Bilbo said bluntly, causing Elrond to gape at him once more. This little hobbit seemed to enjoy surprising him. “We can just talk, if you want. Thorin won’t mind.”

“Thorin?” Elrond questioned, the name vaguely familiar.

“My boss,” Bilbo said, shrugging. “As long as you are happy, we don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. We can talk, I can read to you, give you a massage, ecetera. The elf who tossed you in here paid for you to stay here until morning, but what we do is up to you.”

“I doubt Glorfindel expected me to simply talk with you,” Elrond laughed, relaxing a bit. He could have likely taken the hobbit if he had to, but he didn’t want to.

“That’s his mistake,” Bilbo replied, shrugging. “I’ve had people spend nearly as much time talking to me as they do…well, you get my point?”

Elrond nodded, and accepted the glass of wine the hobbit offered him.

Throughout the night, Bilbo and Elrond did end up sharing the bed, although not how Glorfindel expected. Bilbo did give the tense elf lord a massage, and after that they talked. They spoke of Imladris and the Shire, the former which Bilbo had never visited and the latter which Bilbo had left shortly after his parents’ deaths. They spoke of books (for Bilbo was a well-read hobbit) and music, and Bilbo confessed his love of writing.

When it was time to leave in the morning, Elrond was actually sad to leave.

“If I am ever in Bree again,” Elrond began, uncharacteristically hesitant.

“I would prefer if you would tell me ahead of time, so I could request a personal night,” Bilbo said with a small smile.

Elrond returned it, and the smile remained even as he left with a blissed out Glorfindel who would not stop talking about the things the surprisingly flexible auburn haired dwarf and he got up to last night.

When he asked if Elrond had enjoyed himself, he got an enigmatic smile and a murmured, “Yes”.


	21. College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Dwalin. Could be seen as a continuation of day 2, high school.

“What classes do you have this semester Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, setting the box of kitchenware down on their small table and beginning to put stuff away. They were attending the same college, although their majors were different, Dwalin going for welding while Bilbo was getting his teaching degree. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t be in the same building, but Bilbo’s dad had donated money to the school and so did most of that side of the family at one point or another. For the son of such a prominent family, the school didn’t see the problem in letting the two friends share a room.

“The generic ones,” Dwalin groaned, dropping the box containing their school supplies on the coffee table. “The First Year Experience one, waste of time if you ask me, an English class, a Math one, and a Health class. I don’t get into the metalworking classes until next semester.”

“I think everyone’s schedule is like that,” Bilbo said, leaving their tiny kitchen to join his boyfriend in the living room. “Let me see your schedule.” Dwalin opened the box and rummaged for one of his folders, pulling it out and taking out his schedule. Bilbo looked at it and gave him a small smile. “I’m in your First Year experience class and your Health class. We have different English classes, but they both get out at the same time, and we have the same Math class too!”

Dwalin grinned, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “That’s great,” he said, and he meant it. They wouldn’t have many classes together next semester, if they had any in common. With the difference in their majors, they were lucky to have as many classes as they did the same. “First Year Experience sounds like a waste of time though.”

“All freshmen have to take it,” Bilbo said, leaning back into Dwalin’s arms. “Be glad for generic classes or we wouldn’t have any time together. Next semester we’ll be wishing we could go back to that class.”

“True,” Dwalin said, “But we can make time. We always have, even before we started dating.”

Bilbo shook his head, remembering the countless study sessions they had had before Dwalin had eorked up the nerve to ask Bilbo on a date. After that, they had to juggle Dwalin’s football and wrestling practice and Bilbo’s tutoring schedule, but they still managed to spend time with each other and keep up their grades.

Dwalin said nothing about the little black box that was resting underneath his shirts in one of the boxes. This first year of college would certainly be memorable, especially if everything went as planned.


	22. Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen (or slash if you see it that way). Bilbo & Bofur, Bilbo & Thorin, Bilbo & Bombur & Dori

Bilbo sighed as he dropped the latest stack of files he needed to review on his desk. Running Bag End Restaurant was a full-time job as it was, and so his office would usually look like a hurricane had just passed through.

Bofur would scratch his head and ask how Bilbo could find anything in that chaos, but Bilbo would reply that he knew where everything was. It was an organized disaster.

Besides, he could organize his office however he pleased. He didn’t say anything about the toy parts liberally scattered around Bofur’s office, as he built some of the toys he and his cousin sold.

Thorin, the first and last time he went into either of their offices, looked like he was going to pass out. Clean freak that he is, the organized chaos nearly gave him a heart attack. _His_ office was perfectly organized. Not a paper out of place or a mess in sight.

 _If he saw my desk right now, he’d have a fit,_ Bilbo thought, snickering, as he sat down to begin reading over the papers. Bombur and Dori would wrap up tonight, while he entombed himself in his office to take care of the paperwork side of his business.


	23. Vampires & Werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Bifur, Bilbo & Elrond

“This,” Bilbo said, backing away from Elrond and edging towards the door, “Is definitely not what I expected.”

Elrond looked puzzled, frowning as the hobbit seemed to be trying to run away. “Bilbo, what in Arda is wrong? You are acting as if you saw Sauron.”

“No, no Sauron, I just learned that one of my friends is a vampire and that my lover and the Company I am travelling with are werewolves,” Bilbo said, slightly hysterical. Thankfully, Elrond’s fangs were hidden by his lips once more, so Bilbo was slightly calmer.

“I thought you knew,” Elrond said, confused. “You said that your mother spoke of her time in Rivendell; did she never mention that several of the elves who found sanctuary here are vampires?”

“No she didn’t!” Bilbo almost shrieked. “All she said was that you were wise and just, and the best healer in Middle-Earth. How that fits with you being a vampire is beyond me.”

“Simply because I drink blood rather that water, you believe that I am evil?” Elrond asked, frowning. “Any blood I drink is willingly offered. Man or beast, I would never harm someone unnecessarily.”

Now Bilbo felt slightly guilty, as Elrond had been nothing but nice to him since they had arrived and here Bilbo was accusing him of being evil because of something he can’t control.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said, flushing slightly. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you, but…well, this has been a bit of a shock.”

“This is the first full moon you spent with the Company?” Elrond asked, understanding shining in his grey eyes.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, nodding. “They didn’t say anything about it, nor did Gandalf,” the hobbit continued angrily. “And tomorrow, they’ll think it was a big joke, the burglar running screaming about wolves invading the city. I nearly stabbed Bifur!”

Elrond cocked his head to the side, his superior hearing detecting the soft pawsteps heading their way. “I doubt he would hold it against you. In fact, I suspect he is coming to ensure that you have recovered from your shock.”

Something scratched at the door before he could respond, and Bilbo moved to open it, seeing a large black wolf, lighter on his face. There was no trace of the scar that was found on the skin of the dwarf, but Bilbo thought it was likely that he would be able to feel the scar tissue under the fur on his face.

Bifur whined, licking Bilbo’s hand and glancing at Elrond.

“He seems to have calmed down,” Elrond said to the wolf, reading the question in his eyes. “However, this could have all been avoided if you all had simply told him.”

Bifur growled, but Elrond ignored him and left the room, leaving the dwarf and hobbit to work things out. He knew that the dwarrows would have much to explain once the sun rose. Bilbo would be very annoyed that his intended hadn’t mentioned that he was a werewolf. Elrond certainly did not envy the dwarves.

* * *

 


	24. Genderbending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, they started dating sometime in Rivendell, but I don't specify. Also, the only dwarf I actually state is female is Dwalin. Which of the others are also genderbent is up to you

“When did you find out?” Dwalin asked. This was the first quiet moment she and Bilbo had together since they started courting, and that thought bothered her. She knew that he knew she was female. What she couldn’t figure out was _how_ he knew.

“I’m not that oblivious love,” Bilbo snorted, twirling his smaller fingers through her beard. “I will admit that I had no idea when you all first showed up at my smial, but after traveling with you I would have had to be blind not to notice. As for when, exactly, sometime before Rivendell but after the trolls.”

“Most outsiders never know,” Dwalin said, still slightly confused. She had traveled through towns of men, and she knew that she wouldn’t pass for feminine by any means. Hobbits seemed like the same sort, aside from the curly hair on their large, bare feet.

“Most outsiders aren’t traveling with you,” Bilbo replied, shrugging. “You and a few of the others bathe separately, for starters. There were other things, some of which I likely wouldn’t have picked up on if not for my mother. After Father died, she raised me alone, until she too passed.”

Dwalin shifted Bilbo so that instead of sitting beside her he was now in her lap, holding him close. She knew, from the little the hobbit had said, that his father had been killed during something called the Fell Winter, and that his mother had hung on long enough for Bilbo to reach his majority before she faded from heartsickness.

_“She was a Took,” Bilbo had said fondly, “And she could do anything she set her mind to.”_

They sat in silence, enjoying the peace and listening to the bees buzzing among Beorn’s flowers. Dwalin was curious about the ‘other things’ that had tipped their burglar off, but that could wait. For now, she would enjoy the fact that they were (finally) able to spend more than two minutes alone together.


	25. Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock & John, Sherlock/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I went to a circus, so this isn't as good as I hoped.

It all started when a man in a suit came to visit.

The man, Mycroft Holmes, owned a circus and was looking for a doctor who was willing to travel. John didn’t have to think very hard before he said yes.

Going to the circus, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He met the man who sold the tickets, Anderson, and the woman who worked the souvenir stand, Sally. He met Anthea, Mycroft’s assistant, who he was sure was part robot. He met Greg, the Ringmaster.

Nothing could have prepared him for his first sight of Sherlock Holmes.

He was in the center ring, high above the ground, walking upon a tightrope. He was an aerialist, and he would do every trick in the book that would take him off of the ground.

He was tall, lithe and slender, effortlessly graceful. John was entranced before the other man had turned his quicksilver eyes on him.

The deductions just cemented the fact: John Watson had fallen for his boss’s younger brother.

He would watch, heart in his throat, while Sherlock took to the trapeze or the aerial silks, and he would listen when Sherlock made his deductions once he was back on level ground. The man was brilliant, no doubt.

Sherlock began to teach him his tricks, working with him to teach him his skills.

_“Don’t think about falling,” Sherlock murmured when they started. “Think about how it will feel to fly.”_

And he did, because he trusted Sherlock more than anyone else. Sherlock taught him how to fly…and he forgot about falling.

Until a man named Moriarty, a rival of Sherlock’s contrived to make the man have an accident, sending him falling, barely catching himself in his silks before he hit the ground.

He refused the hospital, of course, and John took care of him, barely leaving his side. During the time that Sherlock was laid up (in between his protestations of boredom) they finally acted on the attraction that had bloomed between them from day one.

Once Sherlock was back on his feet, he took to the air once more, with John watching his back and dancing with him. Even Moriarty couldn’t stop them.


	26. Plot of Your Favorite Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite movies are actually Remember the Titans and The Sound of Music, but The Corpse Bride was easier to write. This starts near the end of the movie, where Victor (John) is still planning on marrying Emily (Sherlock). In this, Victor & Victoria (Mary) do not get together and Emily doesn't die. Lord Barkis was Moriarty.

 “This is insane,” John muttered, smiling slightly as he lifted the chalice to his lips.

“You don’t have to do this John,” Sherlock said, and John could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Mary will make you happy. She’s female, for one, but she’s also kind, honest, loving… _alive!_ ”

“Sherlock,” John said, turning and setting the chalice down before taking Sherlock’s face in his hands. The skin was like ice under his palms, but he ignored that as he swept his thumbs over the dead man’s prominent cheekbones, avoiding the spots where bone showed through the skin. “Granted, I always expected to marry someone like Mary, but that was because that was what my Mother and Father told me would happen. I never had a choice in the matter. I do now, however, and I choose you.”

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Can we proceed?” a pompous voice asked before Sherlock could recover. Mycroft, the maggot that was usually found somewhere in Sherlock’s brain, was sitting on the table beside Greg, the male Black Widow spider who usually was found near either the dead man or the maggot. “We should return sooner rather than later.”

Greg poked Mycroft, rolling his many eyes, but he said, “He’s right, you know. Sherlock, stop second guessing yourself and him and let the bloke get on with it.”

John grinned down at the spider before looking up at Sherlock, who nodded hesitantly. John lifted up the chalice and downed the poison in one go. He shuddered and twitched, gritting his teeth at the pain, before he felt it. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing.

He was dead…and he’d never been happier.

John pulled Sherlock down by his jacket, kissing him firmly on lips that no longer felt ice cold. The other man wrapped his arms around the shorter man, kissing him back, ignoring their audience.

They were together; nothing else mattered.


	27. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Bifur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel (kind of) to chapter 23. I'm considering making it longer, writing a fic about how werewolf Bifur and Bilbo got together. For Alucard2008 & Dramaya who requested more of this

Bifur trotted towards the healing tent, ignoring the other dwarves and the occasional elf or man he passed on his way.

The Battle of Five Armies, as he heard it called, had been over for a week, and Bilbo had still not woken up. He had taken a rock to the head, fighting for the Company that had abandoned him and the friends he no longer believed he deserved.

When Bilbo was banished Bifur went with him, of course. He was torn between his mate and his pack, but his pack weren’t acting like themselves and his mate needed him. It wasn’t a difficult choice, nor was it difficult to decide to join the battle.

Now, as he watches Bilbo sleep on a cot in the healing tent, a sleep the healers aren’t sure he’ll ever wake from, Bifur thinks that he should have made his hobbit wait behind instead of allowing him to fight.

He remembered the first time he saw Bilbo, when he worked as a toymaker in the Shire. He remembered the fussy, indignant creature his love turned into when his home was invaded by dwarves without any warning. He remembered the beaming smile on the other’s face when he chased after them, waving his signed contract above his head.

He remembered the first time his love had seen him in his other form. He remembered the fear on Bilbo’s face, and the guilt that replaced it when he realized what he’d almost done. He remembered curling up with his love, his fur warming his love’s cool skin.

He remembered, because it was easier than acknowledging that Bilbo might not come back.

He sat by the hobbit’s bedside, speaking of all the things he remembered and all their plans for the future.

He gave Bilbo a way to find his way back, and he was grateful when his love took it.

Bilbo woke up two weeks after the Battle of Five Armies ended. His head ached, of course, and he still needed to spend a few more days in the tent, but neither cared.

They were both alive and healthy. That was all that mattered.


	28. Orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen, kidlock

Sherlock came to Riverside Orphanage on an overcast day. It was pouring, the rain plastering his dark curls to his head as he stalked into the building without giving the officer who delivered him a chance to open his umbrella.

The inhabitants of the orphanage, children and adults alike, soon learned to give Sherlock a wide berth, as the young boy was irritable, snapping out insults about anyone who bothered him. He spent his days in silence, not speaking about the home he ran away from, nor the brother he hoped would come for him, taking him away from their parents forever.

When John Watson appeared, two weeks after Sherlock arrived, everyone (possibly Sherlock most of all) when John seemed to prefer to spend his time with Sherlock. John was the one who convinced him to open up, about his parents and his brother’s struggle to gain custody. John, in turn, told him about the car crash that had killed his parents, wounding his shoulder and leaving him in the custody of his alcoholic sister, who likely hadn’t even noticed that he left.

When Mycroft finally came for Sherlock, the younger Holmes refused to leave his friend behind. The appropriate papers were gotten, Harry more than willing to pawn her younger brother off on someone else, and John Watson left the orphanage in the company of Sherlock Holmes.


	29. In A Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo/Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not been able to find a name for Fili & Kili's father, so I just put Durin as their last name.

“Why am I here again?” William ‘Bilbo’ Baggins asked.

“Because Greyhame said you were a good keyboardist and writer,” Philip ‘Fili’ Durin said, walking past with his twim brother Kevin ‘Kili’ Durin.

“I am,” William said, “But Bofur and Bombur are perfectly capable…”

“They don’t have your range,” Thaddeus ‘Thorin’ Thrainson said, coming up and wrapping his arms around his smaller lover, “And they can’t write as well as you.”

“And you’re sure that my sudden addition to ‘The Company’ has everything to do with my musical abilities and nothing to do with the fact that I am dating the lead singer?” William asked dryly. “And you could call them Robert and Barnabas.”

“At practice, they are Bofur and Bombur,” Thaddeus said, bending his head to place a kiss on William’s honeyed curls. “Now, get ready to practice ‘Bilbo’.” He unwrapped his arms, sending the smaller man on his way with a pat on his backside.

William rolled his eyes and gave Thaddeus a mock salute. “Yes sir ‘Thorin’.”

Thaddeus’ laughter followed him into his dressing room.


	30. Any of Your Choosing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ? Tell me who you think it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a poem I read a long time ago, which is posted first. The story is after, and is the shortest yet.   
> Who do you think the two mentioned are?

**_A Belated Birthday by Janet S. Wong_ **

_Dust wraps the present_

_I meant to give to my friend_

_as snow hides his grave._

* * *

It was silly really. Embarrassing, if he thought about it. He was a grown man, sitting and crying because he couldn’t give his friend his birthday present.

It had been bought a few months before…well, it was a few months ago. The package had been hidden in his closet (obvious place to look, but _he_ never did), and it was staring at this dust covered present that had him sobbing.

It seemed more real, staring at that present. _His_ birthday had been last week, but it didn’t matter.

Dust covered _his_ present just as snow covered _his_ grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


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